


You don't really hate me

by EllieWan



Series: Sweetie Pie (Ace/Thermite) [6]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cheesy, Dialogue Heavy, Light-Hearted, Love/Hate, M/M, Pining Håvard "Ace" Haugland, Pre-Relationship, Taking the plane, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieWan/pseuds/EllieWan
Summary: A few Rainbow operators take a civil plane to fly back to the UK.But Thermite doesn't want to spend 12 hours sitting next to Ace. Nope.
Relationships: Håvard "Ace" Haugland/Jordan "Thermite" Trace
Series: Sweetie Pie (Ace/Thermite) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985390
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	You don't really hate me

**Author's Note:**

> I required fluff today. So here is some shameless super light-hearted fluff.  
> References to other works from the series but it's not a requirement.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

“No, no, no. I’m not sitting next to Ace.” Jordan complained. “Please, can someone exchange with me, please? I have a window seat, who wants to see beautiful skylines and… “

His voice dimmed out as the other operators were looking at him with raised eyebrows. Jack came to pat his shoulder:

“Bro. Do you _really_ think that a window view would erase the horrible experience of spending a 12-hour flight in a cramped space sitting next to Ace?”

Jordan sighed, while massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I would have tried…”

“Sweetie pie!” Ace's voice echoed a few meters away. “I heard we were sitting next to each other!”

Jack slowly stepped away, sneakily leaving the conversation before hearing anything that would give him nightmares.

“So, it seems.” Jordan sighed. “But I’m warning you: I want to sleep. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to hear you babbling for 12 hours, ok?”

“Oh, come on, you’re hurting my feelings, sweetie pie. I can be a perfectly calm and pleasant neighbor.”

“That I doubt.”

“How about we take a walk, now that we’ve checked in and are free of luggage? I love strolling in those duty-free perfume shops. Do you want chocolates? We could buy chocolates.”

“No, no, no. We’re already gonna spend 12 hours together, no need to add any extra time on-“

“Excuse-me… are you _Ace, King of the Hill_?” a voice asked from behind them.

Jordan squeezed his eyes shut and facepalmed. He was about to seize the opportunity to leave, but Ace wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Yup. That’s me.”

Jordan was about to shake his arm off but then one of the strangers’ eyes landed on him:

“Oh my God, and that’s GI Joe, isn’t it?!” they cried out. “The guy on your selfie, in the helicopter.”

Jordan glared at Ace, telepathically yelling at him _What is this shit?!_

“Yup. That’s him.”

“You’re… you’re… togeth-“

“We’re colleagues.” Jordan stated while forcingly removing Ace’s arm from his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to buy… things.”

“Oooh come on, sweetie p-“

Ace suddenly pressed a hand on his own mouth, the nickname having totally escaped him. Jordan was fuming and pointed his finger at him, about to scold him _bad_. But seeing Ace’s fans with wide-open eyes, he managed to hold himself back.

“I’m gonna… buy… things. And… you… don’t be… stupid.” He articulated and Ace simply nodded.

He walked away and he heard Ace’s voice explaining:

“Yeah, he’s a bit grumpy, sorry. But he’s a nice guy… No, we’re not together… Yes, I know they’re fanfictions about us… A picture? Yes sure, come here!”

Jordan then wandered in the duty-free shops, not really looking for something, even though he _was_ very tempted by the enormous amount and variety of chocolates, foodie as he was. But his attention got caught by two Chinese tourists who were seemingly having trouble discussing with the cashier over something. He politely offered his help, surprising the tourists with his decent Mandarin, and helped them out. He then waved them goodbye, and when he left the shop, he fell face to face with Ace:

“So now you speak Chinese.” He dumbfoundedly stated.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Jordan sighed.

“See. That’s something I should have known.”

“There’s nothing too crazy about that, Timur also speaks Chinese.”

“G-Glazkov?” Ace stuttered. “Why people don’t tell me those things?”

“Because you’re usually too busy bragging about your own skills.”

Ace facepalmed and groaned:

“Uuurgh, I’m such an idiot.”

“Now please, I’d like some peace before the flight. And you’re probably going to draw more of your followers wherever you step.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s hang out together! You know how the others are, they won’t talk to me and spend time with me.”

“And what makes you think I would?”

Ace grinned:

“Because you’re my sweetie pie and you’re a nice guy. And you’ve been learning Norwegian words, so I guess it doesn’t go well with the _“no talking to Ace”_ card, does it?”

Jordan stopped walking and opened his eyes wide:

“H-How do you know?”

“Grace told me.”

“That little… ! It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Well, then please explain to me, sweetie pie.”

“It was for… for team calling! To be able to make calls… in Norwegian. For the missions. In case you wouldn’t… understand English calls.”

“Hm hmmm.” Ace teased.

“Ok, this is embarrassing.”

“Hm hm.”

“Stop it!”

Ace started laughing:

“Aaah it’s so good teasing you. Can’t wait to spend 12 hours next to you.”

“You told me you would be a calm neighbor!”

“Oh and I will, _Jordan._ I will.”

_3 hours later, on the plane. Remaining time to destination: 9 hours._

“Just push your legs!” Jordan whined.

“I can’t cut them off, sweetie pie! I’m tall, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, like, fold them on the third seat, since it’s _fucking empty_!”

“But I’ll block the flight attendant with my feet if I do.”

Jordan grumbled and curled himself against the window, pressing the pillow to the wall and trying to find another sleeping position. But there was the stupid vent not too far, and it was blowing cold air to his face so he changed position again, slumping in his seat and trying to just sleep like that. And in fact, it actually almost worked. He started to doze off after a few minutes, with his eyes closed, exhaustion taking over despite the aching position.

But he woke up a few minutes later when a passenger banged the luggage case on top of them. And that’s when he realized that he had been sleeping on Ace’s shoulder, his body fully oriented towards him like it had been drawn to it. He straightened up and Ace woke up too. Through sleepy eyes he mumbled:

“Why did you move, sweetie pie… We had finally found a nice position.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jordan mumbled while curling back in the middle of his seat, realizing the armrest had been pressing his ribs, given the abnormal ache in this area. He grabbed his sweatshirt and put it on, since he was getting a bit cold. He closed his tired eyes and let himself drift back to sleep.

But he woke up again, and this time to Ace’s head banging with his.

“Ouch, what the fuck, man?” he cried out and some passengers hushed him.

“Sorry I… I dozed off.”

“Well doze off on the other side!”

“I’m… sorry.” Ace just repeated and he looked like he really was.

Jordan almost felt bad to see him like that, also struggling to find a decent position, tired eyes and aching body. But Jordan wanted to sleep too and…

He squeezed his eyes because he had an idea, but it was this kind of _“very bad good idea.”_

“Alright, you know what” he gave in. “Come here.”

Jordan lifted the armrest that he had made a fuss about earlier, stating that it was a very needed social barrier so that Håvard wouldn’t steal precious inches of space from him. Ace looked at him with curious eyes and Jordan opened his arms. But Ace was squinting at him. Jordan sighed:

“Come on, don’t make me beg.”

“Let me get this straight.” Håvard started “You, Jordan Trace, want me, Håvard Haugland, to snuggle against you.”

Jordan rolled his eyes:

“I didn’t talk about _snuggling_ , just… This way you can sit diagonally, it’ll be better for your legs, and your head will be my pillow and there won’t be that stupid armrest in our ribs.” _And I’ll get warmer_ he deliberately forgot to add.

Ace still looked doubtful, so Jordan whined:

“Come on, man. Don’t make a fuss about it. I want to sleep. You want to sleep. Believe me, I wouldn’t offer such a thing if I wasn’t totally sleep-deprived, and right now, I’d do anything for a fucking nap.”

“Yeah… I get your point.”

Håvard finally gave in, and who would have thought he would have made such a fuss about it? He leant forward until he was comfortably resting on Jordan’s chest, and Jordan grabbed the blanket to drape it over them, grumbling that he was feeling cold. And after a few seconds adjusting their position perfectly, they dozed off.

Jordan doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep but he was feeling warm and cozy. Until he felt some shaking. It wasn’t much at first, but then it was getting a bit rougher and he heard the familiar sound of the seatbelt fastening sign. He fluttered his eyes open slowly unwrapping his arms from Ace, and he was about to wake him up since he hadn’t his seatbelt, but the plane shook some more and Ace jumped in a sudden movement:

“ _Fy faen, hva i helvete?!_ ” he started.

“Relax, we’re just going through some turbulence.” Jordan told him.

But it didn’t seem to help much. Ace fastened his seatbelt and looked all around him, like checking if people were freaking out of if it was normal.

“It’s just some turbulence.” Jordan repeated. “Come on, man. You’ve taken the plane so many times before, right?”

“Y-Yeah. Sure.”

A flight attendant quickly walked in the alley, checking for everyone’s seatbelt and she went to sit down at the end of the corridor, putting her seatbelt on. Håvard swallowed his saliva.

“Man! You’ve been jumping out of military planes and helicopters; don’t tell me you’re scared in a commercial plane?”

“In a helicopter, I have a parachute.”

“And what about the time you were rappelling from it to rescue people?”

“I knew the pilot and I trusted them.”

“You know you need to have a license and a good record to fly a long-haul plane like this?”

“It’s just… I don’t _like_ it. I’m trapped in a tiny seat, I don’t have no parachute, no harness, no safety line, no ropes, no nothing. If that thing explodes or dives down, we’re all dead.”

“But it won’t.” Jordan tried to soothe him. “J… Just try to relax, ok? Deep breaths? And try to think about something else, alright?”

Håvard nodded his head and looked up, like if he was praying. He straightened up in his seat, then closed his eyes and tried to take slow and deep breaths. Jordan put a hand on his arm:

“That’s it. You’re doing good, buddy. Keep going.”

Håvard continued but admitted:

“I can’t think about anything else.”

“What about your happy thoughts? You must have been taught about that, right? Thinking of happy memories in desperate situations?”

Ace silently nodded.

“Then think about it. Try to visualize it, and each breath is another vivid detail to it.”

Ace took another deep breath and thought about his sweet memory. This sweet secret memory he would visit in the darkest moments. During the SAS resistance to interrogation test. During the endless nights after dreadful terrorist attacks. During that time when he had been holding Jordan’s motionless and unconscious body after the parachute accident. That sweet little memory that would make him grin despite everything.

He doesn’t know how long he dwelled on this memory, eyes closed and steady breathing, but when he opened his eyes again, the turbulence was over. And Jordan was staring at him with worried eyebrows.

“You’re feeling better?”

Håvard nodded with a smile.

“Great. Now you can give me my hand back.” Jordan replied.

“Oh?”

Håvard let go of Jordan’s hand he had been holding the whole time. And when he did, he felt like he was missing something.

“That’s why people didn’t want to sit next to you?” Jordan joked.

“Nah. That’s my strategy, to scare them away so that I could sit _next to you._ ” Håvard joked back.

Jordan rolled his eyes and chuckled:

“One day, you’ll have to tell me why of all people you chose me as your favorite scapegoat.”

“I already told you.”

“No, no. We’re not doing that elevator talk again.”

Håvard laughed and so did Jordan. They always did when they were thinking back at that time when they were both stuck in the elevator and people had been betting on how many minutes Håvard would survive before Jordan killed him.

Jordan put his hood on and tapped his screen to look at the map and see how much time was left before they landed. Meanwhile, Håvard was just gazing at him. Gazing at Jordan’s beautiful face: his glimmering grey eyes, his salt-and-pepper stubble and greying short hair. His defined jaw and cute nose. His pink lips and… he sighed.

“Can I ask you a question, Jordan?”

“Quite unusual of you to ask for permission.” Jordan joked while still looking at his screen.

“I mean a real question.”

Jordan turned his head to him, with wary eyes and almost blushed when he saw Håvard slumped backwards and just gazing at him.

“You don’t really hate me, do you?” Håvard asked.

First, there was a silence. Then Jordan chuckled and looked back at his screen.

“No, I don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it :) Lemme know.


End file.
